


Renegade

by pitkins_tea



Series: Darkwood and Co [1]
Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Gen, but i figured better safe than sorry???, idk how "graphic" the violence actually is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitkins_tea/pseuds/pitkins_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Darkwood and Co fic. </p>
<p>Vagabond. Vigilante. RENEGADE.<br/>Lucy wasn't always a hero. She had to be called to her true purpose... allying herself with the dead. Setting free the living. It took her a long time to really understand what her purpose was. Why her gift was given to her. No one else could have done it. No one else could truly understand the peace that was brought with death. How she didn't bring suffering, she ended it. It was the Skull who taught her that. She could be great. No, she IS great. She is the savior of London. Setting the poor living people free, one murder at a time. <br/>This is the story of how she became great. How her eyes were opened, and she was finally able to be enlightened... and became who she was truly meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” Lockwood’s voice was shrill as he glared Lucy down from where she was standing. Her face felt hot as she suppressed the rage that was boiling up inside her throat. She’d expected him to explode like this, judging by the incredibly awkward and silent ride home, but it still never failed to catch her off guard when he raised his voice.

“What do you mean, ‘what the hell was that?’ I was  _ trying _ to help her! She was communicating with me.” 

“Communicating? You almost got yourself  _ killed _ !” Lockwood exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands. Lucy resisted the almost unbearable urge to roll her eyes at him. 

“I would have been fine if you hadn’t come in and slashed at her, with  _ no  _ regard for what she was saying or what I could have done to help--”

“It’s not your  _ job _ to help ghosts!” He interrupted. “We get rid of them. They’re dangerous and they’ll kill mindlessly until we put a stop to it.” She should have known this wouldn’t have gone over well. This was the third time she’d tried to establish a connection with a spirit, and the third rollicking she’d gotten as a consequence. Still, if she could just get through to him, maybe he’d understand.

“Lockwood, they’re  _ not  _ mindless, that’s what I’m saying! They’re intelligent, and if you’d just let me talk to them--” Her voice was strained as she tried to convey just how important this was. Their company could change the world and he was too afraid to even try. 

“Lucy, just stop.” He cut her off with a hand. “It’s way too dangerous and you’re going to get yourself or someone else hurt.” 

“You’re the one who’s always saying that we’re  _ ‘independent’ _ and we should ‘ _ explore our talents _ !’” On the accents she did an unflattering impression of her boss.

“Not when doing that is going to get you  _ killed _ .”

“I can take care of myself, Lockwood.”

“Well, obviously you can’t!”

Lucy sucked in a breath. Her face reddened, and her eyebrows drew ever closer together. What ever retort she had at hand dissolved in her embarrassment, and she rapidly turned on a heel to retreat. “You’re insufferable. I’m going to bed.” 

Anything Lockwood said in response was promptly ignored as Lucy stomped up to her attic room, chucking her bag onto the ground and flopping onto her bed. 

_ I heard all of that, you know. _ A familiar voice wormed its way into her ear.

“Shut up, skull.” Lucy groaned, rolling onto her stomach so she could cover her ears with the pillow. 

_ What? You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.  _ He genuinely sounded irritated by this. Lucy could almost picture the grotesque face he would be making, no doubt with an elongated frown and a lacking nose. She didn’t bother looking up. 

“I don't care what you were going to say.” Lucy figured regardless of what she said, the skull would talk anyway. She never really could get him to shut up completely. 

_ I just think Lockwood is a fool for not letting you hear that ghost. She had some interesting points. Really appreciated being heard. You could do great things. But obviously, you don’t care about that. So I’ll just leave you alone to sulk and doubt your purpose in life. _

Lucy stopped for a minute, registering what was said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

_ You know full well what doubting your purpose means. You do that almost every day. Don’t think I don’t notice. _

“No, no. The last bit.” She opted to ignore the jab.

_ You could do great things? Oh, come off of it. Of course you’d know that. You’re not completely stupid. Listening to ghosts could lead you anywhere you wanted to go. You could easily excel to levels beyond this little hovel of a company. Or at least, you could impress Lockwood. I know you’d love to do that. _ Lucy scowled, her original curiosity stomped into oblivion. 

“Shut up. I don’t want to excel  _ or _ impress Lockwood.” 

_ Shutting up. But think about it. You really could be the savior of London. I could help you, you know. _

“I don’t need your help.” 

_ Right. _

There was a moment of silence. A second of pause. Lucy mulled over what the Skull said. He had to be lying. Tempting her, so to speak. But still, ‘savior of London’? That was a hefty title. If there was any truth at all to what it was talking about… She didn’t know what to think.


	2. B

Days passed without any more “incidents” regarding Lucy and her spectres. Mostly because Lockwood had almost completely forbidden her from being alone with a ghost at  _ all,  _ much less speak to it or establish some kind of connection. She figured that the grounding would resolve itself in a week or two, but time went on with no such change. Weeks turned to months. Almost a year, even. By the day, she grew more irritable, her patience running thin with both of her colleagues. The only person she felt would really listen to her was the Skull, as irksome as its company was. 

On the days she was particularly frustrated, she could hear his voice worm its way into her ear, almost with frightening ease.  _ You know--  _ He’d purr, sometimes from across the room, others during the conversations they’d often have.  _ It’s really not good for you to be cooped up like this. Your talents are being put to waste. _

“No, they’re not. I use my listening on every case. I’m essential.” Lucy would argue, pretending his words didn’t bother her like they did. Lockwood and George always said she was essential to the team. She had to be. 

_ Oh, no. Not your  _ listening _. Your  _ speaking _. Ghosts can hear you. Communicate with you. That’s something special. _

Lucy would just roll her eyes and ignore him. She’d busy herself with rapier play, or sketching, or --when it was particularly bad-- even distracting herself by cleaning the dishes or mopping the floor. The boys didn’t seem to notice her distress, or if they did, they didn’t care. 

And the days ticked by, ever so slowly. Nothing getting done. Nothing being said. 

 

Lucy watched helplessly as a year vanished underneath her, growing restless and irritable. The Skull spoke to her more often, and gradually, she started believing it. She  _ was _ special. She  _ was  _ being wasted. Lockwood and George just couldn’t see her potential like the Skull could. In fact, they might even  _ know  _ she was being wasted. They might be intentionally holding her back so she doesn’t steal the spotlight. Lockwood always had a thing for being the center of attention. George, of course, had to be in league with him. They were always talking to each other behind her back. 

_ Don’t trust them. _ The Skull would whisper.  _ They’re up to something _ .

It was on cases this was most obvious to her. Somehow she always felt like the third wheel between them. The useless one. The overlooked one. The one they only kept along, ‘just in case’. But she knew, oh, she knew, she was much more than they thought of her. She was going to do great things, but what? What was it that the Skull thought she would do for him? For all of London? She would ask him, frequently, but all he said was “ _ give it time _ .”

So she did.

\--  
  


_ Look at them over there. Plotting and scheming and gossiping without you. It’s like they’ve forgotten you’re even here. _

Lucy glanced toward the sound of her whispering colleagues and felt anger bubble up inside the pit of her stomach. They were on a case, the dim light of the lantern illuminating George’s infuriatingly fat cheeks and Lockwood’s arrogantly swooping brow. They were talking to each other, off in the corner by themselves, as if they didn’t even know she was there. Lucy’s mouth knit itself into a scowl, and she glanced back towards her bag, where the Skull had its near-permanent resting place. 

“They’re not… scheming. They’re probably just talking about the case.” Despite herself, she tried to think optimistically. They might not have been friends now, but they used to be. Did that all change so fast…?

_ You don’t believe that. _ The whisper retorted.

“... No, I don’t.” Lucy admitted, a certain edge of annoyance in her tone. They  _ knew _ what they were doing to her. They thought she was too  _ sensitive _ to help.

_ You’re too sensitive for them. _ The Skull said, making Lucy wonder for a moment if he could read minds as well as expressions.  _ And they’re right. You  _ are  _ sensitive. Too sensitive for menial agency work. You deserve to be doing something better than this glimmer of a Shade. _

“It’s a Spectre.” Lucy mumbled irritably.

_ It’s not worth your time. You should be out there with ghosts like me. _

She scoffed. “What does that mean?”

_ Type  _ Threes, _ obviously. Like that Fittes lady back at the beginning of the Problem, right? She was  _ important _. I can’t even  _ imagine _ how important you must me. Actually, I can. But that’s not as mysterious or impressive as a compliment you deserve. _

“... Am I really as important as Marissa Fittes?” Lucy asked warily, disbelieving.

_ Have you been listening to me at all? What have I been saying?!  _ Lucy almost flinched at the sudden outburst of energy in her mind, the harshness of the tone unfamiliar to her. Almost instantly, however, his voice returned to normal, as smooth and as sweet as dripping honey. _ You’re more important than  _ anyone.  _ This Spectre is child’s play compared to what you should be doing. _

“What should I--?”

“Lucy!” Lockwood’s voice interrupted her question, and she shot an icy glare at him.  _ Always _ getting in the way of her conversations… couldn’t they see she was  _ busy _ ?

“We’re going to head upstairs now.” George clarified, adjusting his glasses. “We need to start searching for the source.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Lucy growled. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for sticking with us!   
> This chapter was a bit harder to write, but admittedly, getting into the crazy Lucy vibe was really fun for the both of us.   
> Be sure to leave a comment to tell us what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Coco here   
> Super glad you've taken an interest in Darkwood and Co!
> 
> Please leave a comment to tell us what you think!   
> Em and I will definitely read and consider all of them :) We love feedback!


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